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Geva Theatre Center’s well-paced and timely play, One House Over, explores the question of borders, both personal and ethnic.

So it’s fitting that the play, by Catherine Trieschmann in a co-production with Milwaukee Repertory Theatre, confines four of its five characters within the fenced Chicago backyard of Joanne Vancura (Elaine Rivkin) and her father Milos (Mark Jacoby), a Czech immigrant.

Joanne, saddled with her cranky father, turns to Camila Hernandez (Zoe Sophia Garcia) for live-in help. Despite suspicions that the Mexican woman is undocumented, Joanne holds her liberal flag high during the interview. It’s just not an issue; the price is right, so what’s the problem?

Soon, Camila and husband Rafael (Justin Huen) have moved into the downstairs apartment — with rules in place. Windows must stay shut; Latin beats kept to low volume. The set reinforces the theme, with the brick house seemingly as solid as a fortress.

As welcoming as Joanne appears, she’s emphatic that boundaries be maintained. The couple can use the basement and yard only. When Camila asks, “What if there’s an emergency and my husband needs to talk to me?” Joanne tells her that Rafael can call her on the phone. “From the basement?!”

The actors are outstanding in their roles, especially when conveying a universal longing for love and connection.

But in some scenes, the plot indicting stereotypes becomes stereotype itself. The crusty and lusty Milos hurls derogatory labels such as “Wetback” at Camila and describes someone else as “lazy as a Polack.” Predictably, he moves from disrespect (even groping Camila as she works) to respect once she, in a predictably tempestuous Latin way, moves from retaliatory rages to dramatic apologies.

And Joanne, the repressed white woman, only comes alive through the attention of a more vibrant “ethnic” man.

Nosy next-door-neighbor Patty Leiker (Jeanne Paulsen) brings a striking and unexpected difference in the predictable mix; she drew enthusiastic applause from the audience during one of those moments.

Paulsen’s character gets to exude a true sense of understanding that transcends obvious differences among the characters. She’s blunt. She’s intrusive, yet she sees Camila as someone she’d invite over for crumble coffee cake and gossip.

Trieschmann’s most clever ploy in telling their story is having Camila speak Spanish throughout. There’s little confusion because Rafael translates what she says in responding to her. Interestingly, these moments emphasize the discomfort that English-only Americans say they feel when they can’t understand a foreign language. (During intermission, one theatergoer remarked to a friend, “I wish I knew more Spanish!”).

“Speak English! You’re in America,” Milos shouts while Camila returns verbal digs in Spanish. Judging by some of the audience reaction, some insults were funnier in Spanish than English.

Some of the humor in the first act is far from subtle, and it’s easy to see punchlines coming. But there are standout moments. Husband Rafael is a bright star in this universe, and we want him to succeed. His growing affection for Johanna — sharing a bowl of spaghetti puttanesca or a beer — has impact. His poignant account of growing up American after being brought to the United States as a 2-year-old makes current headlines chilling.

Camila’s worry for her ailing “Popi,” who drove away one day only to be deported back to Mexico, shadows her face behind the cheery smiles. She’ll do the heavy lifting in this household, but she longs for a garden in Guadalajara and a real life.

Camila and Milos’ growing affection is another highlight as they share their perilous escape stories, one across the Rio Grande, the other from the Gestapo.

The interplay of these characters changes them, but intimacy gained is also shadowed inevitably by a dynamic that clearly marks boundaries. Even within the American Dream, there is the employer and the employed. Someone has autonomy and someone doesn’t.